


drown

by Iwillseduceyouwithmyweirdness



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Coming Out, Gay Peter Parker, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Iron Dad, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Precious Peter Parker, Self-Harm, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, bi tony stark, eating disorder mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-06-26 13:59:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwillseduceyouwithmyweirdness/pseuds/Iwillseduceyouwithmyweirdness
Summary: Tony was worried. Or maybe concerned was a better word; to be worried, he would have to know why his stomach was currently a pit of anxiety. Worry would mean that he could try to fix whatever was wrong. As it was, it just felt like the rug was about to be pulled out from under him. It was just a dull ache in the back of his mind that seemed to say oh hey, in a minute, everything you thought you understood will disappear.It was not a fun feeling.What made everything so much worse, however, was that this feeling – this aching, scraping fear in his bones – all centred on Peter Parker.Or: Peter has finally been forced to confront the fact that he's not straight, and his change in mood has unwittingly affected Tony.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! so this is just something that i couldn't get out of my head in between writing chapters for other Spider Man related fics i'm working on! this is going to be pretty angsty, but i'm definitely going to make sure there is lots of comfort too! This fic will contain references to self harm, so please be careful

Tony was worried. Or maybe concerned was a better word; to be worried, he would have to know _why_ his stomach was currently a pit of anxiety. Worry would mean that he could try to fix whatever was wrong. As it was, it just felt like the rug was about to be pulled out from under him. It was just a dull ache in the back of his mind that seemed to say _oh hey, in a minute, everything you thought you understood will disappear._

 

It was not a fun feeling.

 

What made everything so much worse, however, was that this _feeling_ – this aching, scraping fear in his bones – all centred on Peter Parker.

 

To date, Peter was the best thing that had happened to Tony, and he was _not_ about to screw that up. The decision was easy: he needed to find out what was wrong with his kid.

 

Peter had been acting _odd_ for weeks – just longer than Tony had been concerned. It had started with him zoning out in the lab. That hadn’t been too bad – after all, they were working on some pretty heavy maths. It was only understandable that he needed to concentrate. And besides, Tony had argued at the time, Peter still spoke a mile a minute, jumping from old film references to memes in the same breath. He was still _Peter_.

 

Tony doesn’t know when that started to slip; the process was too slow.

 

But one day, he realised that Peter hadn’t answered any of his questions with more than a one syllable answer all day (an impressive feat given that Happy had dropped him off at the compound at 9 am, and it was now 4:23 pm).

 

‘Is something bothering you buddy?’ He had asked casually, trying to keep his voice even.

 

Peter had flinched, tugging the cuffs of his sleeves down over the ends of his fingers. ‘What – no! I’m just – school work is a bitch,’ he had finished lamely.

 

‘Don’t swear, kid.’

 

They had come up with a plan: Tony would help Peter with his science homework, _ease the pressure,_ he had suggested.

 

But it wasn’t enough. Happy had phoned Tony late one night after dropping the boy home from one of their all day lab sessions (now with a built in break to go through Peter’s homework).

 

_I’m worried about Parker_ , he had said, cutting straight to the chase. Tony’s stomach still did a backflip every time he thought of Happy saying that. It must have been bad for him to mention it. _For the past month or so he hasn’t said a word to me – or rather, he says ‘hi, H’ as he gets in the car and ‘thanks’ when he leaves it – because he’s a polite kid and all – but the drive is creepily quiet, Tony. He just curls up with his headphones in and acts like the world outside isn’t there._

 

Tony was going out of his mind – there was a _reason_ he never had kids. He didn’t do well when confronted with stresses. Especially not after Afghanistan. He didn’t do well with emotions either. Howard was to blame for that.

 

But this couldn’t be ignored. Tony knew first-hand the damage that could be done when a problem was bottled up for too long.

 

 

 

To give Peter his credit, he _tried_ to act normal. Around Ned and MJ it was somewhat bearable. After all, they already knew the big secret – Ned never could hide anything from MJ, and ultimately, he hadn’t worried when she had asked why Peter hadn’t told her himself that he’d made out with their best friend. Her expression had been soft when she had said it, as if she knew exactly why Peter hadn’t told her (she did). And when Peter had joked that _Ned just loves being the one to spill the gossip_ , she hadn’t pressed him for the truth.

 

The truth was complicated.

 

Peter had felt the sickening weight of shame pooling in his gut from an early age.

 

He remembers the boy from the flat below him. They were both seven. Peter had wanted to be his _best friend_ ; wanted to always be near him even though he couldn’t quite tell why. And then one day it had hit him. He wanted to _kiss_ the boy. Immediately, he knew it wasn’t something he could ever say out loud. Peter may have been a naïve and innocent child, but he knew that there were some things that the older boys would beat him up for.

 

That was the last day he hung out with the boy in his block. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at the kid – every time it just brought an overwhelming sense of _wrongness_ to him.

 

And he didn’t want to let Aunt May and Uncle Ben down.

 

So Peter got good at hiding. He would pretend to like the girls that everyone crushed on. Ultimately, it was easy (if not a little stomach-turning) to see the traits that society would find conventionally attractive.

 

Depression had crept in not long after that, leaving a network of rosy pink scars in its wake.

 

On the year anniversary of Uncle Ben’s death, Ned had kissed Peter – _as an experiment,_ Ned had said – and every ugly lie that he had ever told himself about not being gay crumbled to dust on his (probably straight) best friend’s lips.

 

He knew that Ned wasn’t doing it to be mean; they had just been having a regular Friday night when Ned had told him he was _curious_ what kissing a guy would be like. Peter had agreed, pretending that he hadn’t had a thousand dreams just like that (kissing strangers, kissing that cute boy in the year above, _kissing Ned_ ).

 

After, Ned had laughed, his hand still resting on the back of Peter’s neck. _Nope,_ he had said. His face was so close to Peter’s that he could feel the breeze of the words ghost over his still slightly parted lips. _I’m definitely straight. What about you?_

 

There had been a pause the length of several heartbeats. Long enough for Peter to pull away, climb off the bed, and reach the bedroom door. But Peter could never lie to Ned. _I – I’m not – I think I –_

 

Peter had run. He had turned his phone off and not turned it back on until the following Monday, where he was bombarded with apologetic texts from Ned and concerned ones from MJ.

 

That Saturday had been the first day that Tony had started to get _concerned_ about him.

 

Three months had passed since then, and Peter was still acting as if there could be a monster around every corner.

 

On days like today, he was wild and angry. His hands shook and he let his anxiety get the better of him. If the far too meticulous rows of scaring on the soft inside of his arms were anything to go by, things were getting worse day by day.

 

Peter and Tony had been working in the lab for an hour before anything happened. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that today was one of the days that they worked in silence; Peter was too numb to laugh at Tony’s jokes today. It seemed he always was these days.

 

The equation Peter was working on for his chemistry homework just didn’t want to balance. He let out a frustrated sigh, shoving at his calculator when it yet again failed to give him the right answer.

 

‘You okay there squirt?’ Tony asked mildly.

 

‘Fine.’ Peter snapped. ‘Chemistry just fucking sucks.’

 

‘Okay,’ Tony responded, drawing out the word and raising his hands in mock surrender. ‘You sure that’s all that’s going on here?’

 

‘Yes.’ Peter huffed, scribbling something out in his note book. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

 

‘You’ve just been a little off recently.’ It was the understatement of the year. Tony had no idea where the chatterbox from a few months ago had gone, but he sure as hell was going to find out.

 

_Oh yeah, sorry Mr Stark, I totally forgot to tell you, I kissed my straight best friend and now I can’t ignore the fact that I’m gay, but too ashamed to tell anyone. Surprise!_ Peter let out another heavy breath. _And while we’re at it, the amount of stress that I’m under means that it’s getting harder to hide my bad days from you. Please don’t decide you want to stop meeting with me._

 

Tony made his way to the opposite side of the desk, leaning his forearms on the table in the hopes of meeting his kid’s eye. ‘You need some help?’ It was a loaded question and they both knew it.

 

The anger that had made itself at home in Peter’s belly suddenly coiled, and he couldn’t stand Tony’s gentle coaxing any longer. ‘No.’ He said, batting the textbook he had been working from so hard that it flew off the desk, landing face down and crumpled on the floor.

 

Tony raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘What’d that book ever do to you?’

 

‘It has hard questions in it,’ Peter snapped, grinding the lead of his pencil in a dark spot on the margin of his page. Somewhere deep under his skin, he could feel the sluggish call for a razor blade, and the thought suddenly burnt away the rage in Peter’s bones, leaving only listlessness. ‘I’m sorry Mr Stark. I shouldn’t have got mad.’ He murmured, his body curling in on itself.

 

‘That’s alright,’ Tony said, not really knowing how to treat the situation. ‘If you want to talk about what’s been bothering you, I’m right here.’ He wrapped his knuckles twice on the desk as if to say _good talk_ , before moving back to his own work station.

 

It was less than five minutes later when Peter piped up again. ‘Mr Stark, I think I do need to talk.’ He ventured carefully.

 

Tony hummed, his hands stilling from the email he had been writing.

 

‘I – see, the thing is – I think – or rather – _please don’t hate me_ – I think I might be gay.’ Peter’s voice seemed to get quieter with each word he spoke until the last sentence was barely audible to Tony. He’s hedging his bets. “Think” offers the slim possibility of crawling back into the closet if his mentor reacts badly; he can just say he thought wrong (it would hurt, but Peter would rather continue to keep the spider suit than be hated for something he has no control over).

 

‘Okay,’ Tony says lightly. ‘What makes you think that?’ He tried to keep his voice in the realm of genuine curiosity and not let it fall over into anything stern – the last thing his kid needed was to feel unsafe and he’s all too aware of the fact that Peter has remained hunched over his chem homework this entire time. Even from a distance it is obvious that Peter’s body is tense; he looked ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

 

‘I kissed Ned.’ He blurts, and it’s certainly not what Tony was expecting. ‘He’s not – but I – and I know that makes me a shitty friend but – he said it would be fun. An – an experiment. And you know me, I love science and – and experiments ‘n’ stuff.’ Peter stumbled out, before pausing for breath. However, he was speaking again faster than Tony could think of anything to say to make him relax, finally back to his oversharing self (but somehow, this time it just left them both feeling empty, not relieved). ‘I mean, I knew before then – or at least using hindsight, I was very gay before then, but I didn’t –  and I was scared as shit so I – but dating girls never felt right – the – keeping things hidden made my anxiety worse, which made my depression even more of a bitch than usual. After – after Ned kissed me, I couldn’t pretend that this wasn’t happening anymore. I’m sorry Mr Stark, please – please don’t be mad.’

 

‘Alright,’ Tony says in what he hopes is a soothing yet authoritative voice. ‘First off: I would _never, ever_ be mad at you for something out of your control, okay Parker, so jot that down. And second off, you are so fucking brave Pete, thank you for trusting me with this.’

 

When Tony finally thinks it is safe to meet Peter’s eye, he could clearly see just how close to tears he was. _Hell,_ Tony’s not that far from tears himself, given the emotion in what spider man just told him. And okay, he wasn’t planning on doing this now, but Peter had started to tear at his throat with nervous fingers and blunt nails as if he had long since run out of air (Tony knows it’s just another Parker Quirk TM that seems to come about when he’s anxious), but he sure as hell isn’t about to let that continue. Tony had vowed that the boy would always feel safe with him, and by the looks of things, that isn’t the case right now. ‘Peter, I know this is scary. I know that. But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I can help you with that. I’m – I’m bi, Pete.’

 

All movement in the lab stills, and Tony suddenly second guesses his decision – despite how many times he’s done it, coming out still scares him shitless. ‘No fucking _way, man!_ ’ Peter shouts, his face cracking into an almost genuine smile for the first time in what has got to be four months at least. ‘ _Iron Man_ – the man I have looked up to since I was about 3 – is _queer?_ ’ Peter leans back in his chair, his hands threaded through his hair in disbelief. ‘I can’t tell you how much it means to me that someone as cool as you is a little bit like me, Mr Stark.’ Peter gushes, and Tony feels more than a bit bad that he isn’t out to the public, if only to have made Peter feel better about himself sooner.

 

He knows that’s not how this works, but it doesn’t stop the thought nagging at him. ‘My media team won’t let me come out publicly,’ he says weakly anyway. ‘They say it would be _bad publicity_ or something.’ It’s not the main reason he hasn’t told everyone, (Howard messed him up good and proper as a kid, and Tony is more than happy to lay the blame for his fear of coming out on his father) but accusing his employees sure is easier than facing all the shit he’s been through over the years.

 

‘That’s bullshit.’ Peter says, the venom back in his voice, and Tony is suddenly very aware that this is probably the first time Peter has been so genuine with him for a very long time.

 

But before the thought has time to germinate properly, Peter is sobbing. Thick heavy sobs that Tony understands come from _years_ of hiding. Tony stares in shock. Peter has his head buried in his hands and his knees drawn up to his chest; it certainly doesn’t look comfortable. But the main thing that worries Tony is the way that Peter’s breaths sound like they physically hurt.

 

He’s letting out short gasps that wrack his whole body, leaving him shivering.

 

It suddenly hits Tony that Peter is just a fifteen year old kid; he can’t even drive yet. He’s never looked younger in Tony’s eyes. ‘Hey,’ he tries, carefully taking hold of one of Peter’s wrists and pulling his hand away from his face. ‘I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath okay? With me: in – and out. Good. Again.’

 

Tony continues coaching Peter for the next seven and a half minutes (he definitely doesn’t ask Friday to check the exact time as soon as the kid leaves that night). Despite only being able to see half of Peter’s face, he is more than a little shocked at the amount of pain he sees reflected in it. The knowledge that Peter managed to hide this much from him is disturbing, and certainly something he won’t forget in a hurry.

 

Eventually, however, Peter’s breathing evens out enough for them to talk properly again. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Stark, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.’

 

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for, Pete, I want to help.’ Tony pauses, glancing away to give Peter some breathing space. ‘What you just had was a panic attack,’ he ventures carefully.

 

‘I know.’

 

That was what Tony had been afraid of. _How long has he been suffering with this on his own?_ His mind screams. ‘You’ve had one before?’

 

Peter nods, purposely keeping his eyes away from Tony.

 

‘Do you – do you want to talk about it?’

 

_No_ , Peter thinks, despite the fact that he’s already opening his mouth to speak. ‘I’ve been – I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety for like two years before I met you,’ he begins, cursing the fact that Tony makes him feel safe enough to begin his story at all. ‘I took Xanax and stuff for a while – not that it really matters anymore because the spider bite made my metabolism way high. It wipes out any of the drugs I’m prescribed within a couple of minutes. So yeah – I get panic attacks sometimes. It’s not – it could be worse, Mr Stark. Really, I’m fine.’

 

It seemed that Peter was full of surprises today, and it unsettled Tony to no end. ‘Does May know?’

 

A bitter smile flashed briefly across Peter’s face. ‘Nah,’ he sighed. ‘She – uh – she actually thinks I’m fully recovered.’

 

Tony raised an eyebrow. ‘That seems – healthy. Why haven’t you told her?’

 

‘Well, first off, because my psychiatrist was getting suspicious as to why the drugs weren’t doing their jobs, so I needed to end therapy before they did any tests and found out about _this_ ,’ Peter gestured to where the spider suit was draped over the back of a chair. ‘And also because – well – I guess that my _issues_ are sort of tied up with my sexuality – like, not in the sense that I’m depressed _because_ I’m gay. More – more in the sense that growing up having to constantly be aware of what I was saying and what I was thinking really wasn’t a great environment for my mental health I guess.’

 

Tony nodded, frowning. He really hadn’t expected Peter to be so self-aware or articulate, but he knew from experience that what his kid said made total sense, even if he hadn’t considered it before now. ‘So you’re not out to May?’

 

‘Nope,’ Peter said, popping the _p_. ‘And I’d be really grateful if you didn’t tell anyone. Literally Ned and MJ are the only other people who know, and that’s just because of the whole _making out with Ned_ fiasco.’

 

‘And they’re –?’ Tony asked, not really sure how to finish the sentence without feeling like he was throwing around some heavy accusations.

 

‘They’re supportive,’ Peter finishes for him, a small smile on his face.

 

‘Good.’ Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t extremely relieved that Peter had friends to fight his corner with him – he knew first-hand how difficult it could be to feel both afraid and isolated. ‘So,’ he ventured, trying desperately to lighten the mood, ‘do you like anyone?’

 

Peter snorted, glancing quickly at his mentor. ‘No one you’re gonna know about. This isn’t some 12 year old’s sleep over Mr Stark.’

 

The response was so familiar, and so very _Peter_ that Tony’s surprised laugh left his lips before he could stop it. ‘Ouch,’ Tony chuckled, ‘that was brutal, Pete.’

 

Despite the joking tone, Peter shuffled uncomfortably, immediately second guessing his gentle mocking. It made the crawl under his skin ten times worse than it already had been. ‘We both know you would use government files to stalk them if I gave you a name.’ He was aiming for a teasing tone, but it ended up just sounding tired and flat.

 

Tony’s smile fell a fraction. ‘I mean _yeah_ , but just look what happened with Liz.’ As soon as Tony said it, he wished he should take it back.

 

_Bringing up an ex-girlfriend who’s dad almost killed spider man right after Peter had come out to him? Not a good move, Stark._ Tony scalded himself.

 

‘Yeah, well,’ Peter shrugged, rising from his chair. ‘Anyway, Mr Stark, it’s getting late, and May really will be expecting me home soon –’ Peter cleared his throat; his lungs felt like they were starting to fill with dust and feeling like he was struggling against the all too real weight of concrete and iron pressing down on top of him. Anything that reminded Peter of homecoming should be illegal, he decided. ‘Good talk though! See you tomorrow Tony!’

 

Peter had left before Tony could even reply, deserting him with the bitter taste of unsaid apologies burning on his tongue. He would have to get his shit together before Peter came to finish working on the suit and pick up his homework the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! i'm sorry this took so long to update! things have been a little bumpy recently, and im really trying to get better, so it took a little longer to write this chapter! I really hope you like it!
> 
> This chapter contains a brief mention of an eating disorder, along with a more graphic discussion of self harm, so please keep yourself safe <3

Peter’s journey home was frustrating and long; without the suit, he couldn’t rely on Karen to tell him where to go, and given that the compound was in the middle of fucking _nowhere_ , and about ten miles from the edge of the city, Peter was in for an arduous journey of half remembered back roads.

 

He was pretty sure that Happy was following him because the same dark car with tinted windows had passed him about five times now, and it definitely seemed like something Tony would ask him to do. Peter half wished that Happy would offer him a lift – if it was him, and not some kidnapper or something – it would make both of their lives easier, but he has far too much pride to _ask_ to be dropped home, and he knew that Happy was probably under strict orders to be as inconspicuous as possible.

 

Happy never has been very good at being covert.

 

Were Peter not freaking out about the fact that Tony brought up him dating girls – brought up Liz no less, and all that homecoming had entailed – he probably would have appreciated the fresh air. As it was, his mind was a spiral of ever more self-deprecating thoughts, and his bones were aching with a heavy call for blood.

 

The dull knowledge of what would happen when Peter got home almost made him wish he had stayed at the compound and just glossed over Tony’s last comment. _Almost_.

 

By the time he got back to his local neighbourhood, it was gone seven, meaning that May would have already left for her night shift. Peter couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a curse that she wasn’t there when he finally stumbled into the apartment, knees buckling from the crushing weight of concrete and memories.

 

_You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re safe._ Peter repeated in his head, trying desperately to convince himself he wasn’t still choking on dust and water.

 

Briefly, Peter considered putting on his shitty onesie and heading out on patrol without Karen, but the sight of his low tech and well-loved suit only served as a reminder as to everything that had happened since the spider bite, and the spectacle sent Peter careering backwards away from the cheap fabric, bile rising rapidly in his throat.

 

This night was only ever going to end one way, Peter conceded, turning towards the apartment’s small bathroom. His senses were already dialled to a hundred, and the thought of turning the harsh white light on made his hands shake harder than they already were. Instead, he shut and locked the bathroom door (just in case) and turned on the torch function on his phone.

 

The next few minutes were spent in the blissful routine that Peter seemed to be relying on far too heavily these days. First, he headed to the cupboard under the sink to retrieve the first aid kit. His blade was hidden there too – taped to the underside of the middle shelf where no one would think to look (not that May did sharps sweeps anymore). Peter swallowed down a choked sob at the thought of what May would say if she could see him now.

 

_God,_ he was such a fuck up.

 

Once his equipment was laid out on the floor around him, Peter began shedding clothes at lightning speed until he was left only in his boxers. He took a long time to stare at the scars he’d accumulated over the years – the gash across his ribs from an armed robber, the shadow of a cut across his knee from falling off his scooter as a kid.

 

Peter’s eyes quickly travelled to the meticulous rows of ghost white scars on his right thigh; those were the ones that May knew about. She had seen them once when they had gone swimming and immediately booked him an appointment with a shrink, despite the fact that she and Ben could barely afford it.

 

Above that, there were the scars on his hip. These were less ordered, all intersecting at weird angles; he had made the majority of them on the same night, Ben’s blood still crusting his nails as he gripped the blade. This relapse was the first time that Peter lied to May about getting better. He knew that his Aunt was far too preoccupied with her husband’s death to do more than take him at his word. Searches for blades steadily decreased in frequency from that moment, only serving to fuel Peter’s habit.

 

The final group of scars were the ones that littered the inside of both his forearms. They started just below the crooks of his elbows and reached to around half way to his wrist on both sides – never close enough to be seen if his shirt sleeve accidentally rode up (Peter was quick to make sure of that). The soft pinks and whites of this set of scars marked them as the newest. Despite Peter’s healing factor, he still scarred like everyone else, for which he was eternally grateful. These scars were even more methodical than the first set of self inflicted injuries: each was the same length and distance apart, despite the fact that the depth sometimes varied. They were also the most serious, owing to the fact that Peter’s advanced healing meant that he was bolder and more careless with the blade (not to mention the fact that his mental health was the worst it has ever been).

 

_Finally,_ he picked up the blade. The weight of it on his palm steadied his nerves and the steel crushing his chest seemed to lighten slightly.

 

He stared at his arms with dead eyes, not fully registering quite what was happening yet. The bloodlust that was boiling just under the surface of Peter’s skin was getting harder to bear, and without thinking, he made a quick swipe with the blade across the base of his wrist, right where his palm joined his arm.

 

The pain was immediate and intense, sharpening Peter’s overworked senses. He made two more cuts in quick succession below the first before his brain caught up to his mistake: the cuts were far too visible. All Tony would have to do was want to take measurements for the new web shooters they were working on and he would find out Peter’s secret. Sure, make up was effective for covering the marks in PE, but he was certain that Tony would see right through that.

 

Peter swallowed thickly, desperately trying to clear his head.

 

The sight of the steadily bleeding marks did nothing to help the situation, especially given that the torch light made them look distorted and strange.

 

Before he knew what he was doing, Peter was bringing the blade down against his arm again in a desperate attempt to clear his head. The sharp sting did nothing to reduce the fog in his mind, however, and he had made six more cuts by the time he finally found the will power to stop and clean up the mess he’d made.

 

When Peter finally dragged himself to bed that night – feeling far too dizzy for comfort – he couldn’t help thinking of Tony’s worried expression as he had left the compound. There was something about the fact that he had sent Happy after him to make sure he got home safe that made Peter feel just a little warmer inside.

 

 

 

The next morning, Peter’s phone buzzed cheerfully next to him a full ten minutes before he expected it. This could only mean one thing: Happy was early – something that never happened unintentionally.

 

Peter sighed, and grabbed his keys, heading out the door without breakfast (for the fourth day in a row), and before he had a chance to change the bandage on his wrist. He took the stairs down to the car, half because he was desperate to stall the inevitable conversation with Mr Stark when they arrived at the compound, and half because the stomach dropping feeling the lift made reminded him far too much of being thrown around during his fight with ant man at the airport – and that was not something he was willing to relive just then.

 

Peter froze as soon as he exited the building. The sight of Tony’s sports car parked in front of him made his hands clammy, and immediately he considered whether he could run back inside.

 

Unfortunately Tony had already clocked him and something in his expression made Peter think he could read minds; he looked almost as tense as Peter as he reached across to open the passenger side door from the inside.

 

Peter forced himself towards the car, tugging at the ends of his sleeves as he did so in a desperate attempt to hide the old, greying bandage on his wrist. ‘Hey, Mr Stark,’ Peter greeted in what he hoped was a jolly and not at all forced tone.

 

Tony’s only response was a tight smile before he was starting the car and pulling out into the flow of traffic.

 

‘Do you prefer KFC or Dunkin’?’ Tony asked out of the blue as they stopped at traffic lights.

 

‘What?’

 

‘Do you –’

 

‘No,’ Peter cut Tony off, ‘I heard you. But that seems like a bit of an odd question to ask.’ When the lights turned green and Tony turned in the opposite direction to the compound, Peter suddenly realised that he may well have just walked straight into a trap. ‘Why – we’re heading away from the compound.’ He stated, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

 

‘We’re going out for breakfast.’

 

Peter was sure this was a trap now – something Tony had come up with specifically to talk about what happened yesterday, and he was desperate to find a way out of confronting his demons. ‘I’ve already eaten.’

 

For a minute, the only response Tony gave was a sceptical hum, and Peter desperately hoped that maybe they could leave the conversation at that and just head straight to the lab. ‘Your metabolism has probably burnt through most of what you ate already,’ Tony said, voice low and firm. And he was right. Peter knew that _had_ he eaten, he would already be getting hungry again, but that’s not to say that he’s about to let Tony win so easily.

 

‘I’ve still got to finish the web shooters, Mr Stark. And I – I have a lot of homework – never did finish that chem from yesterday.’

 

Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, ‘kid, you’re killin’ me. Relax. Have a little fun. Your homework will still be waiting for you when we get to HQ later.’

 

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ Peter muttered under his breath. He had hoped that he’d spoken quietly enough that his mentor wouldn’t hear, but the sound of Tony shifting in his seat told him otherwise.

 

‘Pete?’ Tony murmured, and despite the fact that he had his back to Mr Stark, and was staring resolutely out the window, Peter could _hear_ the frown in the mechanic’s voice. It did nothing to make him feel better about the situation.

 

‘I just don’t like knowing that I haven’t finished it yet.’ He knew it sounded lame. It was a poor excuse at best – especially when he spent so much time _avoiding_ doing his homework – but right now, he’d rather have a hundred chemistry tests than a heart to heart with Iron Man.

 

‘Listen, I’ll help you with school work later, but for now, KFC or Dunkin’?’

 

‘KFC,’ Peter conceded quietly, ‘I’m really craving fries.’ He pretended not to notice Tony’s relieved sigh.

 

It took another few minutes of driving before Tony piped up again, and were Peter a betting man, he would have put money on his mentor waiting until they were driving fast enough that Peter couldn’t attempt to get out of the car to avoid talking. ‘Look, Pete, I’m really sorry about how we left things yesterday, I should never have brought up Liz and –’

 

‘Please don’t bring her up now,’ Peter cut him off, dragging his nails roughly along his thigh in a desperate attempt to keep the memories at bay.

 

‘Noted.’ Tony said, obviously a little defeated. ‘But just know that I’m sorry, kid.’

 

It was odd, Peter thought, he’d assumed that _something_ would have changed in the relationship between himself and Tony now that most things were out in the open, but nothing seemed different. He dragged his gaze away from the window to study his mentor’s face. There was definitely tension in his features, but that could be caused by any number of things – after all, Peter had been more than aware from the beginning of his _internship_ that Tony had to deal with his own issues, most of which were talked about shamelessly in trashy gossip magazines. ‘Mr Stark?’

 

Tony hummed.

 

‘Are you okay?’ Peter asked. He hadn’t really considered yesterday that their conversation was probably just as hard on Tony as it was on him. It was no secret that he meant a lot to his mentor, and he had already seen how hard it had been for May to watch him deal with a mental illness and be helpless to fix it

 

‘Yeah,’ Tony replied, his frown deepening and a tight smile pulling at his lips, ‘of course. Are you okay?’

 

‘I –’ Peter began. He was still not entirely sure whether he should be lying and saying he’s fine, or being completely honest so that Tony can see just how truly _fucked up_ he is. In the end, he settled for an even middle ground. ‘I’ve been better.’

 

‘You don’t –’ Tony sighed and spent a long time driving in silence before he began his question again. ‘You don’t regret coming out to me though, right?’

 

‘What?’

 

‘I mean with the whole Liz thing –’

 

‘ _We’re not talking about that_.’ Peter implored.

 

‘Right. But you left pretty sharpish yesterday. I never want you to feel like you can’t tell me anything.’ For once, it was Tony who was dragging his hand through his hair in some kind of nervous tick instead of Peter.

 

‘I don’t regret it, Mr Stark.’

 

‘Good,’ Tony sighed in relief as he pulled in to the drive through.

 

 

 

Once they had ordered (fries and a milk shake each), Tony drove them to an empty parking lot near the edge of the city. Peter was highly aware of the fact that his mentor _definitely_ went to the furthest away KFC for a reason, and their current secluded location was probably the product of a well-planned coincidence. Despite this, however, he refused to let anything get in the way of him enjoying his meal (even if that meant he had to force himself not to count the calories in every bite he took).

 

Tony was mid-way through a story about his college days with Colonel Rhodes before Peter lost his battle with his appetite, something that he was a little proud of – this was the most he’d eaten in one sitting for at least five weeks.

 

‘– so Rhodey and I had snuck in and were about to –’ Tony cut himself off as Peter reached to place his empty milkshake cup on the dash board, and Peter was almost relieved – he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear about his childhood hero’s wild college adventures – the dad/super hero thing he’s got going on these days was much more Peter’s style. ‘What’s that under your sleeve, Pete?’

 

Peter pulled his hand back to his chest so quickly that he knocked his cup over ( _thank god that’s empty_ , he thought vaguely). Before he had even finished apologising to Mr Stark for almost spilling milkshake everywhere, he already knew that his violent reaction would be his downfall.

 

‘For the thousandth time, Parker, the cup was empty. It didn’t spill. And even if it did, I have enough money to get the car cleaned. That’s not what’s important right now. Was that a bandage on your arm?’

 

‘Uh, no…’ Peter ventured uncertainly, desperately searching for an explanation that would cover his tracks.

 

Tony narrowed his eyes, shifting his body in his seat so that the full force of his sceptical glare could be appreciated. ‘Peter Benjamin Parker, you didn’t go out on patrol last night did you?’

 

‘No.’ And for once, Peter wished he was lying.

 

‘Then what happened to your arm?’

 

‘Sprained it.’

 

‘Doing what?’

 

‘Uh,’ Peter could tell that Tony was unconvinced by his weak excuse, but the lie seemed so much easier to continue with than attempting to tell the truth. In his head, he could almost picture his best friends’ responses; MJ would say something like _masturbating_ , her features mastered into a mask of stony calm, before she cracked up into folds of laughter at Tony’s inevitable awkwardness. Ned, on the other hand, would probably say something along the lines of _you know that fight scene between Steve and Johnathan in Stranger Things? That was me and this robber last night!_ But Peter can come up with nothing.

 

‘Pete,’ Tony sighed, reaching his hand across the central console painfully slowly, keeping his eyes on the kid’s face in an attempt to gauge his reaction at being touched. ‘Let me see.’

 

Tony’s fingers locked carefully around Peter’s hand in what felt like slow motion. Neither of them seemed brave enough to talk; to Peter, it almost felt like a spell had fallen over the car. Somehow, despite the fact that another one of Peter’s darkest secrets was about to be revealed, Tony’s gentleness almost made him feel like things could be okay. _Maybe._ ‘I don’t see how you could have hurt yourself badly enough to need a bandage, Pete. Happy made sure you got home safe alright yesterday, and I had your suit so,’ Tony paused and began to peel back Peter’s sleeve and unwind the bandage. ‘Unless some disaster befell you in your apartment last night, I’m at a loss as to how you –’

 

At the sight of the first raised line on Peter’s wrist, the other shoe dropped for Tony, leaving him reeling at the knowledge that his feeling had been right all along: _everything he thought he knew about his kid was gone._

 

Peter was familiar with this feeling of being discovered; given the amount of badly kept secrets he seemed to have these days, it shouldn’t have been surprising to him that he knew the shape of every sharp edge and warn corner of this odd grief that seemed to take over as soon as his secret was no longer his alone to carry.

 

Unaware of Peter’s silent mourning for the loss of his privacy, Tony continued to unravel the bandage until all nine new cuts could be seen. They had all scabbed over almost completely now, but Tony was more than aware that Peter’s healing factor should have turned shallow cuts into scars by now. That knowledge, paired with the stomach turning amount of blood that soaked the gauze below the lumpy grey bandage told Tony that the cuts would have certainly needed stitches had it not been for Peter’s powers. _Even so_ , he thinks, _if it were up to me, I still would have given him stitches._ Tony pushed the sleeve up more, revealing the beginnings of rows upon rows of scars. He cleared his throat awkwardly, willing himself not to weep for the jolly boy whom he seemed to have lost without even noticing. ‘You’re fucking lucky your body can heal so quick buddy,’ he scalded.

 

Peter nodded, keeping his eyes focused on the half eaten bag of fries in his lap. Were he talking to anyone else, he would have been more than a little offended that instead of words of comfort, his mentor had offered reproach, but Peter knew Tony well enough to understand that this was as close to affection as he could give right now. The use of _buddy_ reminded Peter very clearly of the first time Tony had directed it at him – _I love you, buddy,_ he had said as Peter had re-enacted what had happened between Flash and MJ in the cafeteria that day, and sure, his voice was laced with humour, but the statement still rang true. Ever since then, Tony seemed to use _buddy_ as a coded way of saying _I care about you_ , and it was no different today. ‘I’m sorry Mr Stark.’

 

‘No. You don’t have to apologise for this. If anything, _I’m_ sorry of not helping you sooner.’

 

Peter shook his head, his eyes wide with shock. ‘You couldn’t have done anything, I – I wanted it to be a secret.’

 

‘How long has this been going on?’

 

‘Most recently, it’s been about a year.’

 

Tony let out a long breath, attempting to steady his heartrate. ‘ _Most recently?_ ’ He prompted.

 

‘Yeah, I – the reason May took me to therapy in the first place was because she saw some scars. I stopped for a while until – until Ben – when he – but anyway, since then, it’s been about a year.’

 

‘Listen kiddo, I don’t want you doing this. Next time, you speak to me straight away, okay? I don’t care what time it is, I’ll be there – you just say the word.’ Tony took a shaky sip of milkshake.

 

Peter nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the carpark out the windscreen so that he didn’t have to see his mentor’s face. ‘Please don’t tell Aunt May,’ he whispered.

 

‘I’m really not sure about that, Pete,’ Tony sighed, thinking back to when he and Rhodey’d had a similar discussion about his own drug use back in college. ‘I’ll tell you what, I won’t tell May as long as we talk regularly about how you’re feeling and what’s going on with you. Sound like a plan?’

 

Peter hesitated. He _hated_ talking about how he felt, especially when it made him feel so much weaker than the other avengers. Tony had enough problems without having to deal with a scared teenager, after all. ‘Fine.’ He conceded, ‘but for today, please can we just work in the lab like we used to?’

 

‘Yeah, we can do that, buddy.’ Tony let out a relieved breath, glancing over at his kid and _finally_ getting eye contact back. He was more than happy to pretend things were back to normal just for one day, and something about Peter’s body language made Tony suspect that a weight was already beginning to lift from the boy now that his secrets were all known by someone.

 

Certainly, they both knew that this was by no means a quick fix, but at least they now had a chance to make things easier for Peter; even if Peter never got rid of his depression, Tony could at least help him find constructive ways to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i'm not entirely sure about this chapter, but i thought i might as well put it out there anyway. Because i'm trying to get better, i'm not 100% sure how long it will take for the next update, but if you leave a nice comment, the chances are it will be done quicker!! i really hope you enjoyed this ch


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